The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel

by Torbert, R. J. ;

Two Days Until Ransom

  Z Pita was very busy for a Friday business day, and it was insane for Rachelle. She loved staying busy and had the first smile of her day when Madison walked in with a hug. They sat and had coffee for 20 minutes and got caught up with girl talk. Madison was good at listening to Rachelle vent about everything, and she knew she was becoming overwhelmed with the job at the paper, Z Pita responsibilities, and the killing of Timothy.

  “Tell me,” she said to Rachelle, “what else?”

  Rachelle just blurted out, “I don’t want to be alone. I’m frightened of going through life and waking up one day and saying, ‘Why didn’t I take a chance at something’”

  Madison looked at her, held her hands, and said, “Something or someone?”

  Rachelle’s eyes began tearing up again. “This damn period,” she said. They both started laughing. It was quickly interrupted when Bobby came over to her to tell her that it looked like there was a water leak upstairs in Paul’s apartment.

  “Oh, shit,” Rachelle said. “I’ve got to check it out. Oh, wait! Madison, come with me. I need a witness I didn’t do anything other than check the problem.”

  Madison laughed and said, “OK, no worries.”

  They went upstairs, and Rachelle opened the door. The apartment was in good shape compared to other times she had been in there. Paul was a typical single male, not quite the slob she thought most guys were but still not to her liking, especially the pictures on the walls.

  “OK,” she said. “Bathroom time.”

  “That’s your job,” Madison said. “I’m your witness, but I draw the line going into a single guy’s bathroom. It totally grosses me out.” Rachelle checked the tub, and there was no problem. She wen back to the kitchen area and opened up the cabinet underneath the sink and found the pipes leaking. She called an emergency-service plumber and then called Paul’s cell phone, which went straight to voice mail.

  “Hi, Paul,” Rachelle said. “You have a plumbing problem with your pipes. I called for service. Call me when you can.” Click.

  When Paul finally did pick it up, he thought, OK, this is our relationship. They had known each other for three years and had become close in every way except physically. Yet this murder was going to put distance between them.

  Paul and Bud returned to the mansion, and when the butler Roger Simpson answered the door again, he had a smirk on his face. Paul showed his badge again and asked to see William Lance.

  The voice behind Simpson said, “Let them in.”

  Simpson looked disappointed but replied, “Yes, sir.”

  Paul walked past Simpson, ignoring him. However, Bud did not do the same. “Asswipe,” he said to Simpson as he walked by, then changed his whole facial expression as he greeted William Lance.

  “Can we go somewhere private?” Paul asked. They went to Mr. Lance’s private den, and Paul opened up a notebook. He rattled off question after question. Mr. Lance was very cooperative. Paul moved from questions about Debbie and started to dig into her relationship with Robert Simpson.

  Lance said, “There was nothing I could do about the relationship. Robert has been invaluable to me since he was hired on 12 years ago. Deborah was 14 years old at the time, and he was 25. She went from loving him at age 12 to being in love with him by the time she was 16. Both of them promised me nothing would get intimate until she moved out of the house at 18 for college. It seems like an age gap, and it was at the time, but now she’s 26 and he’s 37. He is irreplaceable to me and to Deborah.”

  “Mr. Lance,” Paul asked, “is there any chance in your mind that Robert is involved in her kidnapping to extort money from you?”

  Lance shook his head. “No way. They’ve been in love for years; there’s no advantage or motive for him to be involved.”

  “Did you speak with Newsday?”

  “No,” Lance replied.

  Paul kept hitting him with question after question. He answered all his inquiries immediately until Paul asked about the tape of the ransom demand.

  “Do you have a tape of the call?” he asked. Silence. “Mr. Lance,” Paul pushed, “please answer the question.”

  “Agent O’Connor has it,” Lance replied.

  “I want to listen to the tape,” Powers replied, with his voice stronger. Lance picked up his cell phone and started pushing buttons.

  “Agent O’Connor, hold on please,” he said, and handed his phone to Paul.

  “OK,” Paul said, “tomorrow then.” He gave the phone back to William Lance. He looked over at Bud and explained they would listen to it the next day after the ferry trip.

  As they got ready to leave and got close to the door, Bud turned back to Mr. Lance and said, “One last question. If your butler was not involved in any way, then why won’t he talk to us?” Lance stood up and walked out with them to the vestibule.

  “Robert,” he called to him. “Please answer the detective’s questions.”

  “Of course,” he replied.

  Paul said, “I would like you to tell us where you have been in the past week every night, plus give me your cell phone number.”

  “Give them what they want, Robert. I’ll say my goodbyes now. Gentlemen, please help bring my daughter back to me.” William Lance shook their hands and left, leaving Robert alone with the detectives. Once the father of Deborah Lance reached his office, his emotions took over and he began to cry for his daughter.

  “Please,” Paul said, “have a seat and give us the information.” Robert sat down in the side room and started writing. Bud couldn’t help but notice how Robert Simpson kept looking up at them while he was writing.

  Bud looked over at Paul and, in a soft tone, said, “Looks like the butler is nervous.”

  Simpson overheard him and stood up yelling, “Personal assistant! I am his personal assistant! I am not a butler!”

  Bud moved in closer until Paul stopped him. “Touchy,” Bud said. “Please finish the information requested, Mr. Simpson,” Paul said.

  “I will,” came his reply, “but I want him outside,” he said, pointing at Detective Johnson. Paul pointed for Bud to leave, and he did. Robert Simpson finished writing down his whereabouts for the past week and included his cell phone number.

  As Paul walked out and Simpson went to close the door, Bud stopped it, saying, “I’ll be watching you, shithead—count on it. Have a nice day.” Then Bud smiled, put on his sunglasses, and walked toward the car.

  As Robert walked toward the kitchen, William Lance was in the hallway waiting for him. He asked, “Robert is there anything I need to know that you haven’t told me?”

  “No, sir,” Robert replied. “I want her back safe and sound as much as you do.”

  Lance walked away to his den, and once Robert reached the kitchen, he sat down at the table and covered his face with his hands.

  Paul checked his voice mail and asked Bud to make a stop at his apartment. When he got there, there was a note from Rachelle:

  Paul, your pipes were leaking water down to the restaurant. I had to have a plumbing service come right away. Any questions, ask Joey Z. I’m not at the restaurant ’til Saturday afternoon. Rachelle

  He crumpled up the note and tried to throw it in his wastebasket. He rarely missed, but today he did. He ran back downstairs, ran around the front, and spoke to Joey Z for a few minutes. Within 10 minutes he was back in the car with Bud.

  “We got a call from the boss,” Bud said. “We have to get back to the precinct.” Paul’s thoughts were with the note Rachelle had left him. He was disappointed with what was happening.

  Wayne Starfield opened up the refrigerator and looked for something to eat. Not because he was hungry but because he was bored. He shut the door and went into the bedroom. There she was, Debbie Lance, sitting in the corner of the room with her arm handcuffed to the bottom rail of the bed. The blindfold was on her, and even though she could free herself of the bli
ndfold with her other arm, she was too frightened to do so. Wayne told her if she removed it he would have to kill her but not before he raped her for 24 hours. There was no way she would take the chance, so she listened to what she was told. Wayne was the caretaker of Debbie, and the four others involved were never in the house unless she was sleeping. There was no way they wanted their voices heard. Wayne was considered the crazy one of the bunch and was easily the best choice to keep an eye on Debbie. The leader, John Winters, also knew that Wayne was not attached to her, but he was definitely attracted to her.

  As he approached Debbie, Wayne looked at her long, thin legs. “Hello, my pretty,” he said, touching her breasts.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “I’ve done everything you asked me to. Please.”

  Wayne stopped but couldn’t resist licking the side of her face. She was too frightened to wipe off his saliva while he was there.

  “You know,” he said to her, “there’s a part of me that wishes you were not such a good girl. That way I could just eat you alive, if you know what I mean.”

  “Please,” Debbie came back. “Don’t hit me, I’ll listen. I will always be good for you.”

  “Too bad,” he shot back. “I really would enjoy punishing you, but then again maybe you would enjoy it too.”

  “You promised,” Debbie said. “Please don’t break your promise. I’ll be good.”

  “Hmmmm,” he replied with disappointment. “Well, we have a couple days. Let’s see how you behave. Good night, my sweet!”

  “Wait, please let me go to the bathroom.”

  “OK,” he replied. “But the blindfold stays on, which means I have to help you,” he said, as he let out a little laugh.

  Wayne Starfield had a Napoleon complex. He could deal with most things except comments about how short he was. Any comment, whether serious or humorous, would change his attitude about anyone. His teeth were in terrible shape, for he was always afraid to go to the dentist. The condition of his teeth, his unruly hair, and his weight for his height made him look much older than his 40 years. Debbie had no choice but to lean on Wayne for help as he took her to the bathroom. He led her to the toilet, and she requested he leave, which he did, but he couldn’t help but watch through the crack of the door. Debbie was not sure if he was completely gone or not, but she felt losing her dignity was better than risking losing her life by removing the blindfold. She flushed and heard his voice a few seconds later.

  “Knock, knock, my pretty. Are you finished going tinkle?” he asked.

  Debbie wanted to throw up at the sound of his voice and touch, but there was barely anything in her stomach to regurgitate. She had already lost four pounds on her thin 5’6,” 110-pound frame. She had been sick a few years prior and had dropped her weight to 99 pounds, which made her look anorexic. It was a time when she had stomach problems, and Robert had helped her through it.

  As Debbie left the bathroom, her thoughts went to her father. William Lance was always very protective of his daughter, who he called Deborah. He did not take chances while Deborah was growing up. Robert took her to and from school as well as maintained the house staff and was there at Mr. Lance’s beck and call.

  Deborah had a crush on Robert from the day he entered their lives. Robert thought she was adorable at 13, pretty at 15, and controlled his affection when she was 16. On her 17th birthday, she reminded Robert how much she wanted him to be the first. He reminded her he worked for her father and that she wasn’t 18. She pursued him so aggressively that, during her 17th year, she would tell him repeatedly that New York state law recognized 17-year-olds as old enough to give consensual sex, but he held true.

  When she turned 18 she wasted no time going to his bedroom. He could no longer hold back his love for her and promised her they would always be together. They shared the bond after she turned 18 but decided they would not tell her father until she moved to the dorm at Stony Brook University. She would stay on campus and come home for the weekends.

  Although Stony Brook was only 25 minutes away from Belle Terre, Deborah wanted some freedom living at the school during the week. Her father was at first upset about the relationship with

  Robert, but Deborah convinced him she was 18, and she thought he would be more comfortable with Robert in the family than someone else. He accepted the relationship as long as it did not interfere with Robert’s responsibilities as his assistant. Robert never let him down. In fact, he excelled at his job and seemed content both professionally and personally.

  William thought highly of Robert, but he wanted to be sure it wasn’t his fortune that was the object of his affection. As the years passed, he felt comfortable that Robert loved his daughter for who she was. It was interesting to see the transition of the relationship from her protector to her loved one. Deborah was very popular through high school, but she never showed interest in the boys. It was Robert that she wanted. Her girlfriends would tease her about all the broken hearts there were because of Robert Simpson.

  She had many girlfriends, but there was one who was her best friend, Patty Saunders. Patty met Deborah at Port Jefferson High School in the ninth grade, and they hit it off immediately because of their love of sports, good-looking guys, movies, and music. It seemed they had the same taste in everything. It was Patty who heard all Debbie’s problems, as well as the good things, as they matured and entered the adult world.

  William Lance sent Deborah to public school, even though he could have easily afforded private school. He felt it was overrated and wanted Deborah to be more down to earth as she grew up. He was very happy with how she had turned out. She excelled in all her classes except for mathematics and graduated from Stony Brook University with a 3.7 GPA. Her passion was to be an English teacher to young children, and Stony Brook had a terrific Education and Teacher Certification program accredited by the National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education.

  While William Lance spoiled his daughter almost to a fault, he felt she was entitled to it as long as she respected money and was good-natured to people, especially those less fortunate than her. During high school, Deborah volunteered at camps for the disabled with Patty and her friends. It was an experience that kept her well grounded. As Deborah fell in love with Robert, it was Patty who was with her, gave her support, and kept her secrets.

  Patty herself was no plain Jane. At 5’4,” with a well-toned body, she was what most men considered a petite bombshell. Patty always looked out for Deborah, but she had been boy hungry since she was 12 years old. It was anybody’s guess when she lost her virginity, and Deborah took criticism for being her best friend, but she had fun times with Patty, with or without the boys. Her sense of humor about men/boys and sex made Debbie laugh so hard at times she could hardly contain herself. She knew Patty had issues, but her attitude was, “Don’t we all?”

  Double-dating with her was always an adventure. It was always Debbie and Robert, yet it was anybody’s guess who Patty would be with. The pool parties were the best, and most guys couldn’t keep their eyes off of Patty’s small yet perfectly shaped frame. Debbie had no interest in the men Patty enjoyed. She was perfectly content with the man she literally grew up to love.

  But now she was in a fight for her life, and as she lay on the bed with one arm shackled to the headboard, seeing only darkness because of the blindfold, all she could think about was her father, Robert, and how much she appreciated life. How much she appreciated her health, her friends, her work. All of this meant so much to her now. She started to pray, “Dear Lord, I know I have been distant from you, and it seems when things are going well I have ignored you. Please Lord, help me. I will never take you for granted again. I ask of you to help me through this and to allow me to see my family again. I promise I will seek you to be in my life, but Lord I need your help. I know one day my journey will end, but I pray to you that it does not end this way. In the name of the Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  “Oh,
isn’t that sweet,” Wayne said. He had been standing by, listening to her prayer. “Let me tell you, you pretty little bitch. You better start praying to me for your salvation, because it will be up to me if you are saved or not now!” he screamed. “Pray to me for your life!”

  Deborah started shaking and tried to speak, but she was so terrified she wasn’t making any sense. Wayne slapped her across the face as she started crying. “Pray to me!” He slapped her again. “Pray to me!” He slapped her again and finally said the magic words to her:

  “Pray to me!”

  “Please!” she yelped. “Please save me!”

  Wayne moved in to slap her again, when his cell phone rang. It played a small Elvis recording that said, “Thank you, thank you very much.” She had heard it before when his cell had a call. She could tell it was from someone who was giving him instructions. She didn’t care at this point, as long as it stopped him from beating her. She began to pray again.

  Paul and Bud arrived at headquarters to see Cronin, and they were met by an officer who told them no stops for anything, including the bathroom, to go straight to his office. They opened the door, and as Cronin looked up, he reached for his remote and turned on CNN and then Fox News. Both were televising the kidnapping and its possible connection to Timothy’s murder.

  “This is all over the country, detectives. Do you understand why?”

  “Yes,” Paul replied.

  “Tell me,” Cronin said.

  “The media will use it for all it’s worth with the Ghost Face masks involved.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Um,” Bud replied, “I said it first. Ghost Face, fuckface, what’s the difference? But I knew this would go national.” As Bud looked around at the silent stares he was getting from Cronin and Paul, he spoke again in an awkward tone. “Please, please, boss, continue,” he said, as he moved his hand sideways in a friendly gesture.

  After glaring at Bud for a few seconds, Cronin spoke again. “All the sickos of the world want to know more because these assholes used these particular masks. Now I have everyone but my mother asking me questions, and that’s only because she doesn’t like horror movies. Guys, listen to me. We have to push to get this solved. I will have the commissioner and district attorney on my ass within the next 24 hours as to the status. Do your thing on the ferry tomorrow. Let’s work with the FBI, pay off the ransom, get Debbie Lance back, and let’s get the killers involved with your friend’s murder.”